I don't care about them!
by annoying-antisocial
Summary: Dr. Lance Sweets has a session with Brennan and Booth, but they storm out. Soon after Angela comes, and after he thinks she leaves he lets something slip, but she hears. ((A little Booth/Brennan slash but, that's all! One shot!))


**Oneshot, about Lance Sweets. I write about him a lot, it's a problem! Thanks for reading.**

**Time: Late Season 3**

…**.**

Lance sat in his office, tapping his foot against the ground. He turned his dark eyes to his watch, the waiting was eating at his patience. Brennan and Booth should walk through his office door any moment now, this was their first appointment in quite a while. He wanted to push them, ask them how Zack's betrayal had affected them. Sweets felt a giddy nervousness rise in his throat, he choked it back as he watched the door knob turn. In swooped a lumbering Agent whose shoulders were hunched forward as a tall, slender woman followed him in.

"I disagree, logically speaking you can't just assume his wife killed him because 'she looked nervous!'" Brennan hollered as she slammed the door.

"I read people, Bones, and I read that she was acting guilty!" Booth shot back as he let his large body fall onto Sweets' couch.

"You can't read people, Booth, they aren't books." She hissed back, sitting on the couch in a huff. Her arms crossed as she leaned against the soft back of the psychologist's couch. "Hello Dr. Sweets."

"Uh, Hi Dr. Brennan…" Sweets hesitated, looking at the two before him. "And Agent Booth." He smiled, Booth rose a hand giving the young man a wave. "How is your case going?"

"Fine, I found cause of death this morning and Booth has apparently found the killer!" Brennans voice had a snap to it, a hint of sarcasm in her rational tone.

"It's just a theory, Bones!" Booth defended, turning his body to her. "A good one! I mean her alibi is flimsy, it won't stand in court!"

"That doesn't mean she did it, Booth!" Brennan also turned to her partner, their argument gaining heat .

"Yeah, but she had motive and the stab wound wasn't exactly professional!" Booth growled back, his face flushing in frustration.

"So? It could have been his boss, or his mother!" Brennan countered, her fists clenching. Sweets thoughts had slipped as they continued their bickering. His thoughts floating away to his parents, he felt sorrow filling his thoughts. He remembered his mothers kind, loving face and then his thoughts turned to her sitting on her death bed saying how much she loved him. How his father had acted so strong in those last months, and how much he missed them both. His gut ached for them now, now that everyone he worked with was treating him with such disdain. He wanted their gentle voices to sweep him away, tell him he was brilliant and to ignore those mean people.

"Sweets!" Booth voice broke the ice barrier that had protected Lance from their fighting. "Isn't this supposed to be a shrink session?" Booth growled, Sweets saw that Brennan had begun to smile again, so he guessed they'd resolved whatever it was that they were arguing about.

"Yes, yes of course I'm sorry." Sweets sat up, pushing his thoughts away. He tried to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth, he locked away his anger at the pair before him. "So, how's your week going?" Sweets yawned unexpectedly, he really needed to get more sleep.

"Uh, fine." Booth answered, raising an eyebrow. Sweets usually asked more profound questions.

"Very well, I suppose…" Brennan questioned, looking at the man. Sweets gave a nod and smile, doodling on his notepad trying to stay awake. "Dr. Sweets?" Brennan said after a few minutes of watching the man frantically sketch.

"Right, right. Actually, I wanted to talk about…" He stopped himself, sitting up straight Booth saw the look of terror on the psychologists face. Sweets braced himself for screaming. "Zack Addy." He finished and Brennans cobalt eyes widened in anger.

"Why?" She asked, trying to keep her emotions in tact. "That's a pointless question, we have moved on from the Gormogon case."

"You say that…" Sweets sat up straighter, looking at her "But you haven't. I understand, you both were very close with him and-"

"Shut up, Sweets." Booth barked, causing the man to shrink away in fear. Brennan was shaking her head, barely keeping her tears at bay. "What the hell's your problem kid? Do you feed off of watching people in pain?" Hiw rods cut like a dagger as Brennan pushed herself up, and Booth followed. They turned to the door, and Booth turned back to shoot the young man a glare. "See ya next week." He growled as they rushed out of the Sweets' office, pushing the door shut with a deafening thud. Lance sat there in shock, still feeling the slap of Booths words. He was too shocked to be angry, and too used to being yelled at that it didn't hurt. Sweets was left there, staring at his sketch. It was a lily, his mothers favorite flower, but it had a pin in it's petals. Ink, or maybe blood, dripped from the tip of that pin into a puddle. It was no artists peace, but somehow Sweets felt like it matched just how he felt. The flower was him, the needle was how the Jeffersonian team had been treating him and soon he felt a bitter smile cross his face. He set the sketch on the coffee table before him and stood from his chair. Sweets turned and walked to the window and opened his blinds, looking over the darkening city. Peeling off his suit jacket he threw it carelessly on the floor, and crossed his arms. Taking in a deep breathe he watched the cars pass on the road and let his thoughts carry him away.

_ Lance Sweets as a 7 year old boy, in a new house with two caring people. Everytime he heard a noise he'd jump with fright, worried it was his past coming back. He'd go to bed in his big bedroom with his new blankets, and he'd curl into a little ball. Half way through the night Lance would awaken, a scream still ringing in his room. He'd be covered in sweat, and his entire small frame would be shaking. The couple would run in, throwing their arms around him. He would cringe at first, an old habit he stilled suffered with. His pajamas were bunched and cold with sweat, but the two people would hug him. Soon the 7 year old would be aware of the tears streaking his cheeks, and he'd begin to cry more. The woman would sing a slow lullaby she'd learned from her mom, and the man would stroke his back lovingly as he laid his head back on his pillow. "We love you." The man would whisper, giving him a strong, caring squeeze. The woman would stay a bit longer after the man left, she'd continue singing. Then she'd softly kiss the little boys' forehead, and he'd slowly close his eyes watching the woman sweep out of his room._

Dr. Sweets felt tears build up, so he pressed his thumb to his forehead to control himself. Shaking his head he let out a wavering breath. "I miss them so much, dammit." He bit off his words there because he heard a noise at his door, the shuffling was quick and he had a feeling it was someone from the Jeffersonian. Suddenly Angela walked in, without knocking, she gave him a smile.

"Sweets, hey." She tried to keep her voice kind, but he felt the chill laced into her words. "I was wondering if you were coming out for drinks?"

"I thought you guys only did that after the cause was solved…" He asked quizzically.

"Well turns out Booth was right, which Bren wasn't to happy about. Apparently the wife fell apart when they said her alibi wasn't gonna hold." Angela kept her voice upbeat, she was pitying him. "So we wanted to know if you were coming?"

"We?" Lance scoffed, raising his eyebrow.

"Well me.." She smiled but he heard her subtext loud and clear, 'I'm doing this cause your a kid and I feel bad, but we don't actually like you. Please don't come'.

"No, that's fine I have plans." Sweets lied blatantly, but Angela pretended not to notice. Soon her eyes fell on his sketch, but he didn't notice. He was looking out the window again as she hopped across his office to look at it. At first, the artist smiled looking it over but then her grin fell as she took it in completely. A chill went through her bones as she began reading the silent meaning as she learned to in college. "Don't you have to go?" Sweets asked politely, and Angela's eyes were torn from the drawing. She nodded and scurried out of his office, and he shook his head. Sweets knew the look on her face, she was worried but he didn't care. He didn't care what or who she was worried about, because they never cared about him. "Why the hell should I care about them?" He groaned as he fell back into his chair, as Agnela walked back in, her hands were on her hips.

"Care about who?" She hissed at him and he nearly jumped from his chair.

"No..no one.. You should really get going…" He stuttered out, staring at her. she just stared at him, soon Booth and Brennan's arguing voices could be heard in the distance.

"Angela?" Brennan turned into Sweets' office, blinking at her friend. "Why are you in ' office?"

"Maybe we should leave, Bones." Booth whispered, pulling on his stubborn partners arm.

"No, no. You guys should stay, Sweets was about to tell me who he doesn't care about." Angela kept her eyes on the shrink, who'd begun to hyperventilate.

"I...I.." He looked at the three people whose cold eyes held his desperately. He wanted to hide away like he always did, curl up and lock his feelings away. "I was talking about...the Jeffersonian team and Agent Booth!" He blurted, preparing to be hit, a reflex he still hadn't gotten rid of. Booth felt his anger flash away immediately when he saw how Sweets had tensed, he looked like the soldiers he'd fought with when they prepared for a strike.

"Well, it makes sense." Brennan stated without feeling. "We don't care about him either."

"Brennan!" Angela gasped, her pain fading quickly.

"What? By the way we all act around him it's the only rational explanation." Brennan argued, forgetting Sweets, the two women started staring at each other. Booth held his gaze on the young man, who had his clipboard in front of his face, and he'd brought his shoulders up, with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Sweets, you look like one of us is about to deck ya.." Booth whispered, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. Angela and Brennan turned to see the tense man barely open on eye to look at them.

"Oh, sweetie, are you okay?" Angela's cold demeanor towards the young man melted instantly when she saw him shaking. He looked like a lost puppy and she wanted to scoop him into a hug. Brennan began feeling guilty as she looked at him.

"I have this feeling of displeasure with myself when looking at Sweets, and I don't like it." Brennan stated, leaning towards Booth.

"It's called guilt, Bones, and we all are feeling it right now.." Booth explained as they all stood in a line, staring at the young man. Sweets let his arms fall and put his feet back on the ground, he opened his eyes to look at them. Giving a smile he nodded, trying to make the moment pass, but every time any of them moved he nearly shot backwards out of fear.

"I'm fine, you all should go celebrate. You solved a case, it's good to let your stress out." Sweets smiled nicely, hoping they'd leave.

"Come with us." Booth said, it was an order but Sweets shook his head.

"It's not my place to-" Sweets began, but Angela cut him off.

"Come with us, please!" Angela chimed, leaning towards the young doctor.

"Really, I'm busy with work." Sweets explained, smiling.

"No, you aren't." Booth huffed, looking at the man. "Come on, kid. Lets go get you drunk!" Sweets shook his head again and Brennan walked forward and took his hand in hers, pulling him to his feet. He reluctantly followed after her, looking at the ground. Booth smiled as Brennan dropped the young mans hand and took his arm, they walked to the elevator.

"I'm sorry." Angela whispered as she practically pulled Lance into the elevator. He nodded, a smile playing at his lips. He began to feel an acceptance, but he wasn't so alone, just a little alone.

…**.**

**First one shot, I'm sorry if it sucks! Review! Thank you!**


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